I’m still going to claim I have boundaries and self-respect. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be fucked though, right?
With my hand in Madox’s, I lower myself to the seat and pretend like his thumb brushing along my wrist isn’t everything I’ve missed.
Simple touches, the sweetness of it.
My heart longs for something more, but I tell it to shut up. I don’t want to think. I think too much when it comes to him. Or maybe I don’t think enough. Maybe I overthink nothing with him.
One thing I know for certain is when he’s close to me, all I can think about is pleasing him. I have an innate need to please him. I want to know more than anything that he’s happy with me – even though I’m well aware it’s not a healthy thought to have.
I’m left alone in the backseat to settle my wristlet in my lap as he rounds the car, preparing to take me back to his place, and that small truth forms a lump in my throat. For a second, I nearly jump out of the cab and into the street. He makes me feel like everything, yet at the same time, so obviously inferior. Nothing will ever change that, the power imbalance is simply too drastic. It always has been.
His door is open before I can move, and he gives the cab driver his address.
“Lie down, it’ll help with your headache,” Madox tells me and I’m slow to register what he’s said. The realization surprises me and then excites me. This isn’t the first time we’ve fooled around in a cab. “If you’re still feeling hot, take off your hoodie.” He adds to the cab driver, “She had a little too much to drink tonight.”
I barely get a glance of the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror before telling Madox, “I’ll just rest my eyes for the ride.”
Heat blooms in the pit of my stomach. My fingers tingle as I slowly take off my hoodie, feeling foolish for wearing it and realizing I’m still in the same clothes I wore on the long-ass plane ride over here. All while Madox is dressed in an undoubtedly expensive and custom tailored suit.
Fuck, he is so out of my league it’s not even funny. That’s been the problem since the beginning; I should be over it by now.
His large hand covers my hip as I lean closer to him.
My first thought is that he wants head. Biting my bottom lip, I start to lower my head, but Madox grabs the back of my neck, guiding me where he wants me, which isn’t my nose to his crotch like I was expecting.
I’ve always thought it was slutty of me to enjoy giving him a blow job. Even if it turned me on like nothing else to have such a powerful man lose all control when I went down on him. Maybe that’s why I’m slightly disappointed.
With my breasts pressed to his thigh and my cheek laying on the leather of the seat, Madox commands me in a low voice to look at the back of the seat and stay quiet.
My heart races as I obey him, waiting with the anticipation only growing hotter and hotter. Draping the hoodie over my midsection and ass, Madox slips his hand under the fabric and deftly undoes the button and zipper to my jeans. The music in the cab is all I can hear, but adrenaline races through me as I wonder if the cab driver can tell what Madox is doing.
With his left hand on my shoulder, and his right under the privacy of the hoodie, I peek up at Madox to see him looking straight ahead and seemingly disinterested.
Even as he shifts my jeans down an inch and then another, slowly exposing my ass to him even though the garment around my waist covers it from any prying eyes.
I’ve never done anything else with anyone. Nothing.
Madox was my first and only. And I would do anything with Madox.
He’s fucked me in bathrooms, dressing rooms and back alleys. He’s eaten me out at restaurants and I’ve given him head in towering skyscrapers when he was just taking over his company. So him playing with me in a cab? It does nothing but make me even needier for him than I already am.
I can hear the lace of my underwear tear as Madox asks the cab driver to turn up the music, telling him it’s one of his favorites. I doubt he’s ever even heard this song before. He’s shoving his fingers through the lace and ripping my panties from me when he thanks the driver. With my forearms acting as a pillow for me, I keep my head facing the backseat, but stare up at Madox’s strong stubbled jaw.
“Feeling better, sweetheart?” he asks me casually as he shoves a finger inside of my pussy. My lips form a perfect O as a spike of wanton need shocks my system and I hesitate before answering him, “No, I think I need a moment more.”